


Dean is a slut-pie

by bloodandcream



Series: The more the merrier [76]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blow Jobs, Bottom Dean, Bottom Sam, Bunker Fluff, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Multi, Recreational Drug Use, Shotgunning, Spitroasting, dean baking, in that there are no trials or gadreel and kevin is alive and they're happy-ish, verging on canon-divergent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-24
Updated: 2017-01-24
Packaged: 2018-09-19 14:05:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9444596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodandcream/pseuds/bloodandcream
Summary: Sam was sitting at the table with his foot propped up on a chair, ankle wrapped thick in an ace bandage. He’d gotten a nasty sprain on the hunt. But Dean would get him back to fighting condition the best way he knew how - with home-made food and a dose of medication from the pimply cashier at the KwikMart that gave so little shits about his actual job he had no compunctions selling weed by the dumpsters behind the store.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DickBaggins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DickBaggins/gifts).



Dean was naked under his dead-guy robe but it was nice and toasty in the kitchen with the oven on. Thick socks on his feet, sash tied for modesty, he shuffled between the fridge and the island counter as he gathered ingredients.

Sam was sitting at the table with his foot propped up on a chair, ankle wrapped thick in an ace bandage. He’d gotten a nasty sprain on the hunt. But Dean would get him back to fighting condition the best way he knew how - with home-made food and a dose of medication from the pimply cashier at the KwikMart that gave so little shits about his actual job he had no compunctions selling weed by the dumpsters behind the store.

A handful of mis-matched diner sugar packets kept Sam busy at the table, stacking them into houses like you would with a pack of cards. Or more like lean-to’s. There was a five pound bag of sugar in the cupboard, but stashing packs of condiments and other miscellany from diner tables was at automatic habit at this point. Soy-sauce from take out, mustard packets, those little things of red-pepper from pizza places. There were a few containers overflowing with single-serve packs on the bunker table.

“If I put some sugar out, do you think ants will come live in the little houses?”

Dean waved a mixing spoon threateningly. “No ants in the kitchen.”

All the little houses fell down and Sam pulled the box of condiments closer to him, dumping the whole thing on the table and organizing by color.

Dean checked the hand-scrawled recipe card he’d written off the internet for chocolate chip cookies. Cooking with a laptop on the counter was a no-no. Baking soda… no powder…. wait, soda, yeah he had that in the cupboards. Eggs. Butter.

Scowling, Dean emptied out most of the cupboards in the kitchen looking for one more thing.

“Dude are you baking me cookies or are you cleaning the kitchen?”

“Do we have chocolate chips? I could of fucking sworn I’d gotten some for pancakes…”

“Oh no.”

Dean pushed Sam back down in his chair when he started getting up.

“No, you stay right there, I’ll find some.”

Swapping out the melted bag of peas on Sam’s ankle for another frozen bag of some vegetable Dean was never going to touch, he went back to disemboweling the cupboards.

-

Dean was not above conceding defeat and asking for help when he needed it. At least, when it came to something serious, like chocolate chip cookies. He was totally fine with abusing the privilege of having an angel for a bestie-slash-fuckbuddy when it came to food. A few sloppy texts and promises of sexual favors later, and the bunker door was creaking open noisily.

The dough was already started, whipped fluffy with this sweet heavy stand-mixer that came with the bunker and could probably cave a man’s head in. Sam had organized the condiment packets, then dumped them all out again to make a color-coordinated shanty town.

Cas, case of beer under one arm and KwikMart bag dangling from the other hand, walked into the kitchen and stopped. He squinted at Dean, the bowls across the counters, Sam giggling over his Splenda tower, and sighed.

“I brought chocolate chips. And beer. What are you doing?”

“Cas. Babe. You’re awesome.”

Dean snatched the bag, dug out five different kinds of chocolate chips, and planted a sloppy kiss on Cas’ cheek.

Sniffing the air, Cas moved to put beer away in the fridge and sat down across from Sam at the table. “What’s that smell?”

Sam, for his part, dissolved into a fit of giggles and knocked down his condiment city like the overgrown Godzilla he actually was.

“Medication,” Dean told Cas.

“Marijuana.”

“Yeah. It’s a shame you can’t really get high. Sorry buddy.”

Sam lay over the table to pat at Cas’ arm, “Yeah, sorry buddy. I got hurt, but Dean is a good nurse. I’ll give you a blow job later. Thanks for bringing stuff.”

Frowning, Cas cupped Sam’s jaw and blinked. There was the faintest hum in the air that rattled your eardrums when an angel healed someone; Dean was familiar enough by now to recognize it as he measured out a few cups of chocolate chips and started folding them into the dough.

“Shit. Probably should of asked you that first.”

Sam sat back in his chair, put the melted bag of corn niblets on the table and unwrapped his ankle. “Hey, thanks.”

“You’re staying for cookies, right?” Dean asked.

Stone faced, Cas told him, “And a blow job. Two are owed at this point, I believe. I could start a tab.”

Laughing full out, Sam threw a sugar packet at him.

“The company is nice, too.”

-

They retreated to Dean’s bedroom while the cookies were in the oven to split another bowl. Sam’s mattress had been dragged in and both set side by side on the floor with the bedframe pushed against the wall. The two of them usually slept in one bedroom at night, anyway, but it was a novelty to have his own space.

Sitting up straight and with his legs folded in front of him, Cas declined to partake, saying it didn’t do anything and he didn’t enjoy the sensation. But it was nice having him around. Cas was even fucking funnier when Dean was high, and sometimes he swore he could see a halo.

“Hey Cas, how many dogs have you petted in your life?” Sam asked from his sprawl across Dean’s lap.

Brow wrinkling as though he was actually thinking about it, Cas replied, “I haven’t kept count.”

“We should get a dog.”

“We’re not getting a dog.” Dean groused, leaning back against the wall. He lit the bowl again and thought about Sam in a collar.

“It could be like a guard dog. That guards things when we’re not here.” 

“Who would feed it?”

“Hey Cas, would you dog-sit for us?”

“I don’t believe your brother will be swayed on this issue.”

“Aw c’mon no pouting, that’s not fair,” Dean poked a finger in Sam’s cheek where his dimples should be and smooshed.

There was a shrill alarm from the cell phone in the middle of the mattress-blanket-nest.

“I believe the cookies are done.” Castiel announced. “I can take them out if you want to stay here?”

-

It’s not that Dean didn’t trust Cas with the cookies, but chocolate chip cookies were best fresh out of the oven when the chocolate was all gooey. Dean was still naked under his robe, Sam had lost his shirt somewhere along the way but he had pants on, and Cas had at least loosened his tie and unbuttoned the first few buttons of his shirt. Christ, Dean felt like a pervy Victorian dude, but a flash of that collar-bone got him going.

There was someone else in the kitchen though.

The mess of boxes and pots and bowls that Dean had pulled out of the cupboard looking for chocolate chips had been stacked to one side and Kevin was standing in front of the coffee pot like his unimpressed glare would motivate it to brew faster.

“What are you doing still up?” Dean asked.

“What happened to the kitchen?” Kevin shot back.

“Cookies. You want some?”

Sam was rooting around in the fridge, pulling out milk and grabbing glasses. Cas had taken a seat. Kevin looked wary.

“It’s three a.m. Why are you making cookies at three a.m.?”

“Why are you making coffee at three a.m.?”

“I’m translating.”

“Dude you need a break,” Sam said as he passed and slapped Kevin on the shoulder, knocking him forward.

“Yeah, from you guys.”

“Kev, words hurt.”

Dean had the cookies out of the oven and set on the stove, rooting around in a drawer for a spatula. There were racks here somewhere.

“Are you smoking? Is that what I smell? Are you guys high?”

Sam started giggling. “No.”

“They are very ‘high’.” Cas-tiel informed the room, air quotes included. Choir boy.

Dean started giggling. “Nooo.”

“Why am I still here.” Kevin asked no one as he poured himself a mug of coffee.

Dean offered him a peace cookie. One could not be mad in the face of a peace cookie, fresh from the oven. Kevin accepted, and sat at the table with his coffee and cookie. Lo, peace descended.

Plating a few cookies, Dean sat at the table and put them down where Sam was very carefully pouring milk right up to the rim of the glasses.

“Have you ever smoked? Like, anything?” Dean asked around a mouthful of cookie.

“What do you think?” Kevin nibbled on his cookie. “I’ve been running from demons, translating tablets, and hiding on a house-boat.”

“That sucks,” Sam had his puppy face back on.

“Do you want to?”

-

After dragging a few more pillows and blankets into Dean’s room, they had a nice comfy pile to lounge on with the jug of milk, plate of cookies, and another bowl. It was a bit cramped between the bed frame and the wall, the four of them bumping knees, but then they didn’t have far to reach.

Kevin gingerly mimicked the way Dean held the bowl, took a small puff, and had a coughing fit.

“Deep breaths, calm down.”

Taking the bowl from him and passing it to Sam, Dean thumped Kevin on the back.

“Just relax.”

“That hurts. Is that supposed to hurt?”

“Might take a bit to get used to.”

Sam, after taking a deep pull, passed back to Dean and flopped down, smushed his head into Dean’s lap and wiggled his ass back against Cas’ side. Dean scratched through his hair, and told Kevin, “C’mere, this’ll be easier,” before taking a deep lungful of acrid smoke and holding it, getting a hand cupped gently at the back of Kevin’s neck, pulling him closer.

Maybe it was just surprise, but Kevin opened to his mouth easy, sucked in a breath, moved his lips against Dean and pressed closer. Pulling back, Dean smiled and patted his cheek. “Hold it in.”

Kevin nodded solemnly, after a beat exhaling pungent smoke between them in the already hazy bedroom.

“Oh.”

Dean hummed.

Sam propped himself up on an elbow, “Me next.”

“‘Course, baby boy.” 

Taking as big a breath as he could, Dean curled over Sam to exhale into his slack mouth, chasing the smoke with his tongue and Sam was giggling all of it out, kissing back. Kind of defeated the purposes but Dean didn’t mind. His little brother had a tricky mouth, could pull you in like an undertow, powerful and possessive. Dean kissed Sam with noisy open mouthed smacks and little lower-lip nips that had Sam gasping and rolling onto his belly, spreading his legs over Cas’ lap.

When Dean sat up, Kevin had somehow gotten the bowl from him, taking experimental little baby-puffs, but good on him. Brown eyes wide and slow to blink between them, Kevin opened his mouth, and shut it, and opened it again.

“Wait. What?”

“What?” Dean asked back.

“With… you’re brothers?”

“Dean is really good at sucking dick,” Sam chimed in, squirming onto his back as Cas started working on his pants, mouth dipped down to eat at the trembly stretch of Sam’s stomach where his shirt rode up.

“Yeah I am,” Dean said, looping an arm around Kevin’s shoulder and pulling him closer.

He was soft and shy and climbed into Dean’s lap like a question.

The answer was definitely yes.

-

Dean’s dead guy robe was open and there was a body in his lap that was smaller than what he was used to. Honestly, Kevin was surprisingly beefy under his baggy t-shirt. Kid must be hitting the dusty bunker gym. But he fit snugly against Dean’s chest, just small enough for Dean to rest his chin on top of Kevin’s head, nuzzle against his soft hair.

Across from them, Sam was sucking Cas’ dick.

Cas had Sam’s pajamas pushed down to the tops of his thighs, hands kneading Sam’s ass and god wasn’t that a nice view. Rock hard, underwear-free, Dean rutted against Kevin, down to his boxers. Nice.

“That’s really… where does it all go?”

Kevin ground down, perky ass rubbing the length of Dean’s dick and he had both hands stroking the warm skin of Kevin’s chest.

“I don’t know man. He’s got no gag reflex, never has.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

Cas, leaning against the bed frame, was sprawled with his pants and boxers off, one sock on, one sock off, shirt unbuttoned framing his toned chest, and a firm grip in Sam’s hair. Tugging Sam down, Cas fucked up into his mouth. It was kind of hard to tell the technique from this angle, but Dean knew just how his brother did it. Started out in control, bossy, but get a hold on his hair and push him down, he’d go slack and close his eyes and take it. Spit-sloppy, the wet suck noises of Cas fucking his face had Dean almost blowing his load against Kevin’s boxers.

Getting his hands down them, Dean spread his fingers across Kevin’s thighs and dragged over his skin. Kevin, wiggly thing, had a grip on Dean’s forearms. He got one cupped around a pair of balls and stroked up Kevin’s dick with the other.

“Oh god.”

Nosing down the side of Kevin’s head, kissing around the shell of his ear, Dean watched Cas pulling Sam up and flipping him over. Voice raspy from smoking, he groaned against Kevin’s ear, “I’m gonna suck your dick.”

“Yeah. Ok.”

“Ok?”

“I am so ok with that.”

Hefting Kevin up, Dean parked him on his butt.

“You’re really strong.”

“Yeah.”

“I… I don’t think. I feel like.”

“Just relax sweetheart.”

Yanking Kevin’s boxers down, Dean stumbled until he got himself sideways enough to watch Cas fingering Sam open out of the corner of his eye. Kevin’s dick was really fucking soft. Very nice for petting. And getting his lips on. Kevin’s hands ghosted over Dean’s shoulders like they didn’t know where to settle.

“You can pull my hair.”

Was the last thing Dean told him before swallowing his dick down.

Now, not to be a brag or anything, but Dean knew damn well how good his mouth was. Knew it since Sam was still a snot nosed thirteen year old. Knew it between the legs of trainer bra trailer trash over the span of states. Knew it when he made an angel blaspheme in a dirty motel room. And the noises Kevin was making - fucking soundtrack of the highlight reel of Dean’s life.

Sam, bent over on his knees in front of Cas, was close enough that Dean could grope for his hand. Over rumpled sheets, Dean got a hold on him as Sam started begging. Pretty mouth of his, voice breathy with need, whining at Cas like an entitled brat. Dean always loved that about him. He fucking owned Dean. Honey-trap mouth, an ass made for banging; once you were sucked into his orbit, he owned it.

Fumbling hands pushed through Dean’s short hair, Kevin giving a few up-jerks of his hips, Dean uncoordinated and running on autopilot. A little heavy, a lot hazy, he kept distractedly fixating on textures, the soft-worn cotton of the sheets, the sweaty firm grip of his brother’s hand, the fine-haired expanse of Kevin’s thighs, and god his dick, the thick hot-skinned stretch of it in Dean’s mouth. He was dripping spit and tonguing around the head like an over-eager novice.

Pulling up, swaying dizzy, Dean winked at the wrecked look on Kevin’s face. Cas was all concentration, fucking ploughing Sam like he was getting paid for it. Face to the sheets, curve of his back rolling and ass jiggling with the snap of Cas’ hips flush, Sam was gone.

“Hey Kev, you want to fuck me?”

Kevin blinked up at him, patted a hand against Dean’s chest, murmured “So firm,” and tipped forward for a kiss.

Open mouthed, noses bumping, he was giggly and sweet.

Snagging the lube Cas had tossed to the side, Dean flopped on his back, pulled a leg up and started fingering himself.

“Do you, should I help?”

“Nah, fuck, good enough.”

Crawling up on his hands and knees between Kevin and Sam, Dean pushed his ass up and let Kevin decide what he wanted to do. Brushing the sweaty hair off Sam’s face, Dean found him with his eyes screwed shut and mouth open drooling onto the sheets, babbling.

“Hey baby, c’mere, gimme a kiss.”

Down to his elbows, Dean kissed over Sam’s forehead, his nose, the soft warmth of his lips, huffy-breathed and smoke rich. It wasn’t an easy thing with Sam being shoved forward on every greedy rut of Cas’ hips. Fucked stupid. Yeah, fucked stupid was a good look on Sam.

“So, I just…”

Behind him, Kevin nudged between his legs, fat tip of his dick riding the crease of Dean’s ass, hands skimming over his hips and up his back.

“You just put it in, easy as that.”

Spreading his knees wider to drop down lower - Dean’s used to Sam’s height - he nudged back, stilled, let Kevin feel it out. Cas had slowed, curled over Sam’s back to reach under him, watching with wide blue eyes.

Groaning and pushing up, Sam met Dean’s mouth and kissed back. Filthy tender, telling each other secret things they’ve always understood mouth to mouth, skin to skin.

Things stretched slow, snapped back, and Dean knew time wasn’t really real. One moment he had his mouth on his brother and Kevin was feeling him out, then Dean was the one face to the sheets moaning like a slut.

Big hands in his hair - jesus Sam has huge paws - and Dean went with it. Sam’s dick was in front of his face and he knew what to do with that. Felt like he’s got to unhinge his jaw to swallow that fucking dick. Dean should add snake to his resume, with slut and con-man and fbi. Brother-fucker. Angel-corruptor.

Well, he and Sam kind of did that last one together.

Push-pulled between them, Sam’s pubes tickling his nose, Dean choked on his brother’s dick and shoved his hips back to get more of the deep drag of Kevin pushing into him. He loved getting reamed high because everything felt so much more. The skid of fingers dragging over his skin, blunt nails scraping his jaw, finger-tips at the corner of his mouth and praise from his brother’s lips echoing on repeat. Could listen to that forever. Ought to tape it and play it in the car.

Muscles aching from the strain, Dean felt a cramp creeping into his thigh but he was so goddam close, Kevin pulling his hips back, everything blooming with that strange shivery heat that curled toes and stole breath. Not that Dean’s got any left to steal, Sam practically choking him.

But when he pulled off and Dean hauled in a deep lung of air, it fucking hit him. Fists clenched in the sheets, Sam splashing hot across his face with a hand still gripped in Dean’s hair keeping him up-turned, jaw slack, it rolled through him as he felt Kevin’s hips stuttering.

To the side, Cas, butt-ass naked, sat watching, dick wet and soft, wonder in his eyes.

-

“Man are there any cookies left?”

Dean scratched his belly and stretched his legs.

“I think there are some in the kitchen,” Kevin said.

“I could get them,” Cas offered.

“No, no.”

Dean pulled Cas closer to his side, squeezing his arm. They were nice arms. Kevin was half draped over Dean’s other side. And Sam was draped over all of them. He could be pretty heavy, but the weight distributed alright across three laps. At least Dean was at the perfect angle to slip his fingers through the wet mess that Cas left between Sam’s legs.

It’s a little confusing, Sam’s leg folded over Dean’s, then under Cas’… stomach across Dean’s lap, head on Kevin’s thigh … Kevin petting him like a cat. Sam grumbled, shifted his hips as Dean got a finger inside, used his other hand to pull Sam’s ass wide so he could look at it. Cas sank down further against the wall and leaned in. Kevin groaned.

Sam, for his part, seemed to know they were all looking at it, and he preened. Wiggled his ass and curved his back in a long stretch.

“You gonna sleep in here?” Sam asked, slapping Kevin’s shin.

“Um. Okay?”

“Yeah.” Dean agreed. Nudged Cas’ shoulder, “You better stay too, buddy.”

Cas slid a hand up Sam’s thigh and teased around his rim where Dean was messing around. “Of course.”

—–

“There any milk left?”

“No,” Sam mumbles from where he’s got his head on his folded arms on the table. “Think I spilled some in your room, we need to clean.”

“Coffee.” Is Kevin’s request.

“Caaaaas,” Dean whines, “You can mojo away a hangover can’t you?”

Sitting prim and proper at the table, Cas gives him an unimpressed eyebrow. “That would be an egregious abuse of my power.”

So Dean takes the hair of the dog approach, and instead of milk he brings three beers to the table where Sam and Kevin are finishing off the cookies. There’s a weird crumbly pile of something in the middle of the table.

“What the hell?”

Sam is putting these little scraps together like a puzzle, “I think you mixed the butter wrapper into the cookies last night.”

Dean takes a cookie and splits it in half, “No I didn’t -” and finds a piece of wax paper with a tell-tale ‘B’ on it. “Son of a bitch.”

“They’re still good,”Kevin mumbles, pulling a piece of wax paper out of his mouth.

Busy munching on pulled apart cookies, quiet settles and Dean kind of wants to ask what Cas is up to. He’s probably got busy angel things to get to later, but for now he takes over reassembling the torn scraps of the butter wrapper that Sam had been re-assembling. The kitchen is kind of a wreck. Maybe Dean can rope Cas into helping with that.

“I can’t believe I lost my virginity last night,” breaks the silence from Kevin’s corner of the table.

Dean drops his cookie. “What?”

“I mean, it’s not like anything in my life has been what I expected, but that was really not what I expected.”

Sam noisily finishes gulping down the rest of the milk in his glass.

Dean points a finger at Kevin. “You had a girlfriend. I know you had a girlfriend.”

Kevin frowns at him, “Just because I had a girlfriend doesn’t mean that we were sexually active. Not everyone is a slut like you.”

“What?”

Sam is choking on his milk.

Cas is apparently fascinated with the remains of the butter wrapper.

“Dude. You’re making me feel like a creepy old man.”

Kevin shrugs. “You kind of are.”

“Dean, I don’t think being a slut is something you’re ever going to grow out of,” Sam contributes to the conversation.

Dean back-hand slaps Cas’ arm. “Buddy, come on, you could defend my honor here.”

Blinking and looking around the table, Cas takes a deep breath. “It is my understanding of the colloquial use of the term ‘slut’ that it applies to people who are shamelessly sexually promiscuous.” Cas squints at Dean. “That certainly applies to you.”

“I can’t believe you, eating my cookies and calling me a slut to my face.”

“I didn’t say it was a bad thing.” Kevin tells him - no remorse. Actually, he looks like he’s trying not to laugh.

“Yeah, it’s like,” Sam waves a hand around in the air, “Apple filling to a pie, you wouldn’t be my big brother without the slut filling.”

Dean glares at all of them.

“Goddam right. I’m the tastiest slut-pie.”


End file.
